


Favorite Song

by tigereyes45



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11639085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45/pseuds/tigereyes45
Summary: Hawke is gone. The inquisitor promises to get her back, but Varric knows heroes. He knows better then to believe their promises.





	Favorite Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bookish_Moose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookish_Moose/gifts).



“Do you know what my favorite song is?”

“I imagine something Ferelden.”

“Andraste’s mabari.”

“How very cliche, Ferelden of you.” Varris muses with a light teasing tone in his voice.

Hawke playfully pushes him away. “What can I say. I love my mabari, and all others as well.” Hawke laughs. “But do you know what I like best about that song?”

“Not a clue.” Varric admits as he pushes his glasses farther back up his nose.

“It is the fact that it is so simple. Not only the lyrics but the love and loyalty between Andraste and her mabari. Maybe the chantry says that the mabari could not have been real but the message it carries is real. Her and her mabari against all of Tevinter. Even as she is trapped her mabari does not run. He stays and continues to protect her. Even when his wounds should’ve killed him he kept going, carrying himself onto the pyre they burned Andraste in. He loved her so deeply he could not bare to let her go alone. He kept her feet warm on cold nights, and kept her company right by her side even when facing death.”

Varric pauses in his writing. Setting the fresh quill down he turns around in his chair to look at Hawke. Resting one arm against the back of his chair he raises a brow. “Hawke, it is a poem. That is what true beings do in poems. Die by the heroes. Also I am pretty sure your big, old mabari would do the same for you since you feed it so well.”

Hawke sighs. “Wow, that’s so romantic of you, Varric.”

“I’m not here to be romantic. Just here to make sure you are not burned on a pyre.” He says in jest. “I’d rather not have either of our stories end that way.” He laughs nervously.

He could not see the glint in Hawke’s eyes then. For he had turned back to his work. “Are you saying that you would join me on the hero’s pyre?” Varric shakes his head lightly as he picks up his quill once more.

“Of course Hawke. I’m your loyal sidekick. Who else would if not me? Though I would definitely rather not have to.”

Hawke laughs. “Awe Varric. You’re so sweet.” She stands and pinches his cheek.

“Just doing my job Hawke, but you have to promise me. No pyres please?”

“Alright.” She agrees. “No pyres.”

Hawke laughs at the memory as she looks up at the nightmare’s body. It was difficult, but not as difficult as the look she saw on Varric’s face when he had looked back one last time. Surely he thought she was following them. For that one second before he leapt into the portal she was sure he had looked back at her. Eyes holding worry and hope that she would follow. The poor fool. Marian thought he would know better. She never could let someone else throw themselves in the way of danger. Slowly Hawke picks up her staff. Looking around the fade, it already seemed somewhat nicer. A little less unpleasant than it had been before.

“Alright Marian, what are you going to do now?” She asks herself as she moves. “Can't stay here. That's for sure.” She mutters, choosing a random direction to go in.

Hawke wanders for awhile. She was not sure what was going on or where she was going. She just wants to get to safety. Somewhere. There had to be somewhere that was safe. Someway for her to get back.

* * *

 

Varric sighs as he rests his arm against the mantle of the fireplace. Hawke was gone. The thought was unsettling. The fact that the inquisitor was set on finding someway to rescue her did not sit well in his stomach either. He knows it is not their fault. He shouldn't blame them. The inquisitor had said it was her choice. Marian had chosen to stay in the forsaken fade to fend off the nightmare. Of course she offered to. It was a very hero thing to do and Marian Hawke was very well known to do the hero things without needing to be asked.

Honestly Varric felt hurt. The last time he would ever see his friend was that last look he gave before jumping through. He had thought she would be right behind him, but those three heroes of course were not. She had a smile on her face and even from a distance he could see the determination in her eyes. Or maybe he was imagining that small detail.

No, he didn't. There was no one to blame for this mess but himself either. He had sent for her. He asked her to come. To offer advice, but they both knew Hawke was never satisfied with just giving advice. She wanted to be near the front of the action. Had to be. No matter how much harm it brought her way.

“Varric?”

He lets out a weighted sigh. “Yes inquisitor?” He does not bother to look at them, choosing instead to watch the flames.

“We will get her back.” The Inquisitor promises before taking their leave.

Varric shakes his head. “You say that, but I know you don't believe it. Heroes always make promises they can’t keep.”

* * *

 

A few years later and the inquisitor was still set to keep their words. So much so that they had called for a meeting with the honorable viscount today. A light but steady knock on his door alerted him to their arrival. He calls so that they may feel free to enter.

"I- may we have a word?”

“We?” He turns around to see one very tall, very stout, black haired, blue eyes man. His face was not clean shaven as it had once been. Instead there was a light four o’clock shadow covered his very blocky chin. Varric almost laughs at the sight. He was so relieved to see the young man again, but he then remembers of the reason why the kid was here.

“It’s been awhile.” He thought it was his voice that echoes the words Hawke had greeted him with. How poetic would it be if the loyal sidekick repeated the hero’s words to their last surviving kin. Well there was always Gamlen and his daughter, but Varric didn’t much count them. He wonders if Carver did. It surprises him when he takes notice that it was Carver’s lips and tone that the releases the words. Carver was speaking still but after the greeting Varric was not sure what else to say.

“Ah, I’m sorry Junior. I am not all here right now.” Varric admits hoping the young grey warden would repeat himself. If there was any mercy in this world he would not guess where Varric’s mind had gone.

“I asked how you were.” Carver sounds irritated, but that would be nothing new. Varric decides to plot a smile on his tired, sagging face. Somehow it made him feel so much older than he cared to admit he was.

“I am doing well Junior, but I imagine my welfare is not the real reason you are here. I thought your response to my letter would be the last I heard of you.” Varric admits giving a sidelong glance at the Inquisitor. “Now you grace Kirkwall with your presence once more. I shall call for Aveline so she can alert the guard to round up unconscious bandits from the streets.” Varric says light heartedly.

“I was informed that you all were looking for a way to bring her back.” Carver sounds confused. His expression only makes Varric’s thoughts concrete. Carver glances at the inquisitor. “Is that not why I was called to join you two here?”

“It is.” The inquisitor admits. “However I had not yet had a chance to discuss the matter fully with Varric. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to catch everyone up.”

The inquisitor looks back and forth between the two. Immediately they take a step back allowing Carver or Varric to take the lead.

“So, how have you been sleeping Junior?” Varric asks, unsure of how to start a conversation. The awkward atmosphere is replaced by one of tension. The dark haired man’s shoulders grow rigid and he glares daggers at the dwarf.

“It has been fine. Why do you ask?”

Varric eyes him with curiosity. Of course he was lying. Anyone with an eye could tell that. “The grey wardens were having trouble with their sleep because of the calling. I was not sure if you may still have been feeling any side-effects.” Varric explains.

Carver’s face falls. He decides to take a seat at Varric’s desk. He sounds tired. More then Varric had ever heard the youngest Hawke sound before. “So why are you here Viscount Tethras?”

“The Inquisitor and I have been discussing the subject as we waited to meet with you. It is odd that a dwarf would ask about such things.”

Varric had to admit his interest was piqued now. “You two had to wait?”

Carver nods. “Your assistant made us. Said you were busy with paperwork first.”

Varric scoffs. “He always insists on that.”

“He is definitely someone my sister would enjoy making run around.” Carver jokes. He looks back over his shoulder to the inquisitor. “So he does not know?” A shake is his answer. Carver scratches his chin. “I've seen my sister.”

Varric could feel the heart in his chest grow faster. “W-what? Where?” He would send a raven immediately asking for her quick return. What if she was lost or injured? He would hire guards to go and find her. Why was he not told sooner? The thoughts cause his head to swim.

“In my dreams.” Carver answers.

Varric’s hopes fall. He rests his head in his hands and lets out a small groan.

“You really had me going there Junior.” He chuckles but it was hollow. “Y-you really did.”

“Varric I'm not the only one.” Carver jumps straight into his explanation. “All of us who had been there have been having them. Fenris, Isabela, Merrill, and even Aveline.”

Varric pinches his nose. He remains staring at his desk. He did not want to look at those eyes right now. He did not want to realize just how much he saw Marian in her younger brother. He did not need the heartbreak.

“Aveline has not said anything to me.”

“She believes them to be just dreams.”

“And you don't?”

“No I don't. When we dream we are supposedly connect to the fade Varric. Why would we not be able to speak to those who are in it?”

“I would not know. I do not dream.” Varric reminds him. A shadow crosses Carver’s face but it passes by as quickly as it came. He pushes forward.

“Varric she is alive.” Carver says with the conviction of a pious man. “She keeps talking to me. Calling out to me. In the dreams they start out normal. I am training with father and her back in my childhood years. Or I play with Bethany in the woods behind our house.”

“If you are dreaming about your childhood then wouldn’t it only make sense that you dream of her? Don’t people you typically dream about speak?”

“Yes, but this is different. In the middle of the dreams or sometimes at the end another person is always there. She is taller than us and she does not seem to notice my siblings. Her eyes always stay on me, but she keeps a distance. At least at first she did. When I wake up I never remember her face but I remember the staff. I recognized it as soon as I saw it. It is the old stick father had given her. Father’s staff, but then it too changes. To something far more eloquent and powerful. A staff I do not know and then her face is always revealed at that moment. The first few times I woke up before she could speak to me. Then one night she managed to catch me before I could escape from the dream. Her words were well unclear at first. Yet the more she tried to reach me the more it worked.” Carver was speaking in a rush now. As if he had to hurry and share before he lost his chance to. 

Varric starts to offer the boy some comfort. Reaching out to pat his head or shoulder. The words slip from his mouth and Varric stills his hand. “She kept saying that she was coming home. ‘Don’t worry Carver. I am coming back. Tell Varric for me okay?’ I wrote these others they were all told similar things from a ghost in their dreams.”

“How long has this been happening?” Varric questions.

“Six months.”

Varric looks towards the inquisitor. “You are placing a lot of hope on dreams.”

“I made you a promise Varric. I intend to keep it.”

* * *

 

It was Hawke that chose to flee with her family to Kirkwall. It was Hawke who chose to run from the blight. It was Hawke who lost Bethany. It was Marian who took her brother into danger. It was Marian who made friends in the filthy city of Kirkwall. It was Marian Hawke who had defeated the Arishok. It was Marian Hawke who was Champion. It was Hawke who was in Varric’s story, and it was Marian who was his best friend. It was her who offered to stay and her who defeated the nightmare. It was her who was surviving down. Time moves so slowly here. She could not tell if she had been here nearly hours or days, but she had figured out a secret. One she used to survive. When she thought of them, she could see her friends, and when they slept she could see them walk about nearby. She was not sure why. If it was because she was a human in the fade or a mage she was not sure but she used this ability to speak to them. To give them messages she hoped they could receive.

Marian was still unsure if these times were real or if they were hallucinations. She once even thought Fenris was a demon. She questioned him, but almost as if there was a bubble around his head he only stared and asked what. A demon would have answered her outright with a no and promises. All of her companions were like this. Never answering, always asking what she had said. Except Carver. Carver  would watch her keenly. Always squinting trying to see her more clearly. She wonders if he even recognizes her. She spoke to him the most. Dreamt of him when she could gather some rest. Eventually he answers her.

“Alright sister.” The two words gave her much hope. Hawke began to run across the fade. She ran through mountains and swamps. In here she could even fly at times. If she wasn’t so scared about never being able to get home she might have even been enjoying herself.

Hawke was searching for a rip in the fade. One of the portals the demons used. Marian thought about the one person she could not see here. A name on her mind as often as she breathed. After one close call with a rage demon she made herself a promise. A promise to tell him as soon as she got back. So Hawke searches and Marian hopes.

One day or was it night, she was never sure here. At some point she had found one and right before she could join the demons in their onslaught it was closed. It broke her she had nearly given up hope and ended her search there. Yet her brother gave her comfort. That night she dreamed of him.

“Marian!” His voice almost hurt her head. “Marian are you near?” She was lying down nearby. On a small patch of what she could only describe as ghost grass. Carver spins around until his eyes finally land on her. She wonders if he could see the many new scars. Or if he saw how her head felt so much heavier now, but still not as heavy as her heart. “Marian. We think we know how to save you, we are going to try now, but you have to tell me something.” Questions. Maybe he thought her a demon? It was a fair thought considering where she was. “What is your favorite song?” That was an odd question. Any number of demons could guess it, and she was unsure if Carver even knew.

“Andraste and her Mabari.”

Carver smiles and reaches out to her. “Take my hand sister. We are going to bring you home.”

Marian stares at his hand. Was this really her brother or another trick. Was this the work of a demon or a hallucination? What else did she have to lose? Slowly, unsure, Marian takes his hand. There was a green light. Her eyes widen as she watches a hole in the fade open. This was truly real. This was happening. She was going home! Marian pushes herself back onto her feet. She tries to straighten up so she could look cool when she came back but of course she trips and tumbles through the portal instead.

* * *

 

“About time that worked. We’ve been trying to reach you through him for ages.” The inquisitor states. “Welcome back Hawke.” They say with a smile. Hawke looks around. They were outside. Open air, open skies. It was night. The stars look so bright. Oh, she never noticed how much she had missed the sky. Carver was next to her. Sleeping soundly in a beaten in bag.

“Hawke!” A familiar voice. Her heart skips a beat. That was the clanking of a familiar crossbow. The sound of stiff feet trying to run against better judgement. Then she sees him and she breaks. Hawke falls, and Varric catches her. Strawberry blond chest hair tickles her eyes as she feels the tears begin to fall.

“I’m home.” She chokes.

“Yes you are.” Varric confirms.

Marian wraps her arms around the dwarf.

“I’ve missed you Marian.”

“I love you Varric.” He squeezes her tightly.

**Author's Note:**

> Andraste's mabari is an actual poem/song you can find the lyrics to on a paper in the game.


End file.
